


I Accidentally Totalled Your Car

by TheStayPuftMarshmallowMan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angry Keith (Voltron), Astronautics major Lance, Because everyone in my universe has a fucking potty mouth, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, He doesn't quite figure it out, Hunk is a ray of sunshine, Implied Bottom Keith, Lance is a huge fucking nerd, Lil bit of Langst, M/M, Mechanical Engineering major Keith, No Smut, POV Alternating, Pidge likes crumpets, Pining Keith (Voltron), So much about space, because I'm all about that shit, but also space, i freaking love space, kind of pining lance, like really small
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStayPuftMarshmallowMan/pseuds/TheStayPuftMarshmallowMan
Summary: Rolo was a fucking asshole. Keith repeated that phrase over and over to himself as he stormed out of the building. They should’ve broken up months ago, but now Keith was on a warpath and the baseball bat in his hands was itching for a window to smash.With a vicious grin, he pummelled the car, scratching up Rolo’s perfect black paintwork, denting the sparkling clean bonnet, smashing the headlights in. He was really starting to get into it before someone yanked the bat away from him and threw it into the darkness.“What the fuck are you doing to my car?”-----When Keith accidentally confuses his ex's car with his crush's, he thinks that there's absolutely no chance he can come back from this. After all, he did put a baseball bat through the windshield.Lance McClain, space nerd extraordinaire, has already had his gay crisis so knows fully well what the weird flippy feeling in his stomach is. Well, he would if he wasn't in complete and utter denial about it. There is no way in hell he has a crush on the asshole who destroyed his car. No. Way.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Я случайно разбил твою машину](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676762) by [DreamerX2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamerX2/pseuds/DreamerX2)



**Lance**

 

Lance predicted that by the time he turned thirty his eyesight would be non-existent. The laptop screen glared at him and he squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to get them to focus.

The light swam in front of him and he groaned, tapping the brightness button even though he knew full well it was on the lowest setting already. Honestly, this was all his fault anyway. Why would he leave a dissertation until seven days before it was due? 

“Coffee,” he muttered, hauling himself out of the dent in the sofa where he’d been sitting for no less than six hours. He clumsily pulled out a mug and turned on his prized coffee machine, rubbing his eyes and letting out a yawn.

Lance’s apartment was nothing special - in fact, it was tiny. There was a small kitchen and high bar table taking up one half of the main room. A low slung couch with overstuffed cushions and a couple of armchairs were grouped around a wide-screen TV that made up the second half. Over the mirrored closet on the left was his bed and there was a small bathroom through a narrow door next to it.

Yeah, his place was small, but that was fine. It was cheap and the insulation was good so he didn’t use much of his heating bill. The WiFi was good and it was a twenty-minute walk from the university campus. There was only one small problem.

He winced as the sound of shattering glass came from overhead.

His upstairs neighbours were fucking assholes. Either they were having a shouting match or they were having sex loud enough to wake the dead. And it was always -  _ always _ \- at the most inopportune moments.

“For fuck’s sake,” he griped, clenching his fist. “One day I’m gonna go up there and shove Mullet’s head up Stoner’s arse. Eat me, human centipede, I own this motherfucker.”

The expletives pouring out of Mullet’s mouth were actually genius. If Lance didn’t hate the guy, he’d be impressed. As it happened, Lance did hate the guy and wanted nothing more than to strangle him with his own intestines.

Maybe he should change his dissertation topic to ‘how living environments impact psychotic tendencies’. 

It was at times like these that he liked to blast loud angry music full of foul language through his surround sound speaker system.

“ _ Dickhead, fuckface, cock-smoking, motherfucking, asshole, dirty twat, waste of semen, I hope you die HEY _ !” sang Billie Joe Armstrong at full volume. That would probably get the message across.

He took a gulp of scalding coffee and sat down on one of the stools at the bench, trying to refocus on the twenty-page long essay he had to complete. 

“...presence of amino acids found in the Alpha Centauri system after the Centauri mission was successful…” he muttered to himself. “...suggests multicellular living organisms with similar biological processes involving proteins or likewise exist or existed in the Alpha Centauri system...Professor Samuel Holt, head of the Terrestrial Aerospace Development programme, says that the growing evidence for the existence of extraterrestrial life no more than 5 light years away implies that other life-forms are able to travel through the vacuum as well…where the fuck is my bibliography? I need to cite this…”

He worked for another half an hour, doing his best to ignore the heated screaming from upstairs. There was a slam of a door and angry footsteps marched overhead. Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly Mullet was heading out. He grinned to himself and went back to his sofa dent.

Ten minutes later he heard a great smash from outside and a harsh car alarm broke the peaceful silence at one in the morning. So quickly he almost got whiplash, Lance leaped over his sofa and stared down into the carpark of his building. There, right in the middle, was Billy Ray McFucking Mullet Cyrus slamming a baseball bat into Lance’s car.

 

**Keith**

 

Rolo was a fucking asshole. Keith repeated that phrase over and over to himself as he stormed out of the building. 

They should’ve broken up months ago, but Rolo had a big dick and Keith was a horny bastard. Yeah, no healthy relationship was built on just sex, but there were criteria to be met and that was up there. 

Of course, size  _ wasn’t _ everything and Keith wasn’t a size queen, but aesthetically speaking, a larger dick did more for him. That and the fact that there was no way Keith was putting his dick up someone’s ass. 

Despite everyone always saying that he was a top, there was nothing that turned him off more than the thought of sticking his cock up a chute where someone’s shit came out. Now, having someone do that to him? Go for it. As long as it wasn’t expected back.

Still, not even a big dick could save Rolo from this. Keith was on a warpath and the baseball bat in his hands was itching for a window to smash.

Rolo always parked in the middle. Good thing Keith knew where he always parked because otherwise he’d be whaling on someone else’s car. God, what if it was the hot guy downstairs’? That would be so bad.

Keith shook his head at the idea and swung the bat over his shoulder as he had done so many times on the plate. With a swing that would have put Babe Ruth to shame, he drove the end of the bat through the back window.

With a vicious grin he pummelled the car, scratching up Rolo’s perfect black paintwork, denting the sparkling clean bonnet, smashing the headlights in. He was really starting to get into it before someone yanked the bat away from him and threw it into the darkness.

He reeled back, ready to yell at Rolo some more before he stopped short. In front of him was the hot guy and he looked ready to kill. Maybe Keith had been making too much noise.

“ _ What the fuck are you doing to my car _ ?” hot guy yelled, spit flying from his mouth and fury dancing in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Keith retorted, finding hot guy to be more antagonistic than he was expecting. “This is my ex’s car.”

“Do you want a  _ fucking _ bet?” hot guy seethed, eyes narrowed into slits. “Because I was pretty sure that the ‘69 Chevrolet Camaro was mine. I’m also pretty sure that you just put a baseball bat through the engine you asshole!”

Keith swelled in rage. This idiot was clearly sleep deprived and couldn’t tell two cars apart.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keith said coolly, turning to leave. A hot hand gripped his arm tight and he was dragged violently around to the back of the car. Hot guy shone his torch on the logo and Keith felt his stomach drop out of his body.

There, sitting on the bumper of the car, was a nondescript blue cross. Definitely a Chevrolet. And below that was the shining silver text that read ‘Camaro’.

Shit.

Hot guy had dropped his arm as quickly as he had taken it, as though touching Keith disgusted him. Normally Keith would be relieved to be free, but hot guy’s hand was, well, hot, and Keith kind of maybe missed it burning through his jumper.

Okay, so part of the reason he stayed with Rolo was so that he could have a reason to see hot guy. We’ve already established that it was a bad relationship. 

Hot guy was  _ fine _ . Tall, broad-shouldered, long legs and the most incredible navy blue eyes. Keith had once seen him in glasses and drooled. Keith was also fairly sure that hot guy hated him - though he couldn’t actually blame him for that. Maybe he played up the moaning so that hot guy might jerk off to the sound of him later.

Can’t bash a guy for trying, right? Of course, there was no evidence that hot guy even liked dudes. Although being gay did come with having a gaydar, and despite Keith being subpar at human interaction, he liked to think he was getting some readings from hot guy.

Hot guy who was now yelling at him again.

“-fucking  _ one thousand _ dollars man! I don’t have that kind of money! This was my dad’s Camaro, he’s going to fucking kill me just because you didn’t get laid tonight - are you even listening to me?”

“I’m really sorry,” Keith started. “I’ll pay for all the damages-”

“Damn right you will asshole! You can’t just go around smashing people’s cars, even if it was your ex’s. Don’t you have a shred of decency? They could be the worst person in the world but if it’s their car, it’s  _ their fucking car, man _ ! How would you like it if you just went through a break-up, woke up the next morning and found your car smashed to pieces? Fuck this shit.”

Hot guy was trailing dismally around his car, inspecting various dents and scratches. He crouched down by the bonnet and tried rubbing one with his thumb, only to thump his forehead against it when nothing happened.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “ _ Fuck _ .”

Keith couldn’t feel any worse. How could he have been so stupid? Obviously it wasn’t Rolo’s car, it was at least a metre lower to the ground and it was blue for Christ’s sake.

“I-I’m really sorry man,” Keith muttered, not moving from where he was stood.

Hot guy fixed him with an angry glare.

“I don’t have time for this,” came the reply. “I have a dissertation due next week, my aeronautics project is supposed to be finished in three months and I’ve only just finished my design and it’s my mum’s birthday tomorrow. I’ll deal with this... _ mess _ , later. Give me your number.”

“What? Why?” 

“So I can text you your bill, fuckface, why else?”

Keith decided not to tell him that for a second he was sure he was about to get laid. Instead he just grabbed a pen from his pocket and scrawled his number on a scrap piece of paper.

“Now get out of here,” hot guy said, shoving the paper deep in his jeans with a scowl on his face, before turning abruptly and starting to leave.

“Wait!” Keith yelled, voice cracking embarrassingly. Hot guy stopped in his tracks and threw a bemused look at Keith. “What’s your name?”

“Lance,” he replied. “You?”

“Keith.”

“I’m just gonna stick with asshole for a bit longer.”

 

**Lance**

 

He couldn’t stay in the carpark any longer. Just looking at his baby made him want to cry and he was  _ not _ about to cry in front of the absolute tosser who’d gutted her in the first place.

Lance growled at the memory and clenched his fist tightly. It didn’t help that Mullet was so fucking pretty either. That meant that anger would probably change to sexual tension and Lance was quite happy with the anger, actually.

The dude had just smashed up his  _ car _ . That car was his light and life and his dad was going to murder him.

Lance didn’t want to die, he didn’t want his dad to go to prison for attempted murder or similar and he didn’t want his younger siblings and nephews and nieces to grow up without a dad or uncle.

He collapsed onto his sofa and screamed into his pillow for five minutes before grabbing his laptop and calling Pidge.

She picked up immediately, as Lance knew she would. Pidge was the dictionary definition of an insomniac, but it never really seemed to affect her. Lance had suspicions that she was actually a robot, but the one time he’d tried to crack open her skull to find out, he’d ended up with a dislocated shoulder.

“What’s up nerd,” she greeted, hair pinned back with a fabric headband and glasses wonky on their face.

“Some fucking asshole just totalled my car,” he said back, not wasting his time with saying hello. “Smashed it up with a baseball bat.”

She actually dropped her crumpet in surprise. This was a big deal because Pidge was obsessed with crumpets and would protect them with her heart and soul. Her brother had brought them back from England once and she’d been hooked ever since.

“I...did not know you had a psycho ex,” she managed to get out, looking incredibly owlish from how wide her eyes were. “What the actual fuck.”

“I don’t even know. He was trying to get his ex’s car but somehow mistook that shitty land rover for my beautiful Camaro. I’m about three seconds from crying, please get Hunk.”

Pidge turned her head and yelled into the other room. Within ten seconds, his huge best friend lumbered into the room with all the finesse of a rhino and shoved Pidge out of the way, hugging the screen dramatically.

“Bro, what’s wrong,” Hunk cried, panicking already. “Is it Nyma, is she seeing that other guy again? Or what about Plaxum, you guys were really hitting it off?”

“Dude, Nyma’s a bitch and Plaxum’s got a girlfriend, we’re just friends,” Lance retorted. “And I’m fine, just some guy destroyed Blue and I think something’s in my eye.”

“Lance,” Hunk admonished, fixing him with a knowing look.

“Alright,  _ fine _ , I think I’m gonna cry,” Lance said, his voice shaking embarrassingly. “I need my car for work and shit, and I can’t afford a new one  _ or _ the repairs.”

“Dude, you’re just stressed,” Hunk said calmly. “What with your astrophysics projects and assignments and your job...maybe you just need to take a day off and relax. How about you come over to ours tomorrow? Me ‘n’ Pidge set up the Gameflux 3 yesterday, and it needs to be christened.”

“Bro, that sounds fucking  _ incredible _ ,” Lance breathed, turning over onto his back and balancing the laptop under his chin.

“Great view,” Hunk teased, a gentle smile on his face.

“Fuck you, I’m gorgeous,” Lance retorted, glad that his eyes were no longer stinging. “Honestly, that sounds like exactly what I need right now. You have no idea how much shit I have to do…” he trailed off, closing his eyes.

“I know buddy,” came Hunk’s reply. “But we’re all really proud of you, okay? Don’t let it get to you. I’m sure the jerk will pay you for all expenses and then it’ll all be in the past.”

Lance felt some residual anger return and his jaw clenched unconsciously just thinking about Keith.

“Oh, wow. You must either really hate this guy or really want to hook up with him,” Hunk said, slight awe colouring his tone. Lance shot bolt upright on the couch, the laptop toppling precariously to one side before he managed to grab it.

“ _ What _ ?” he squeaked, before clearing his throat and glaring at Hunk. “Like I would ever want to fuck Emo McMullet! I have standards, you know! I’d never stoop so low, can’t believe you’d even suggest that I would want…”

Hunk gave a sarcastic hum in response and leaned forwards to strengthen his piercing gaze. There was nothing Hunk couldn’t get you to do if he tried hard enough.

“So  _ maybe _ he’s not bad looking, but that doesn’t mean I want to have sex with him! And besides, Rolo’s probably given him five STIs or something and I don’t want chlamydia. Not that that’s the only reason why I wouldn’t, because he’s a massive fucknugget and he pisses me off no end. Just because he’s got a nice ass and his hair looks pretty soft and is long enough to pull-”

“Dude, TMI.”

“ _ I don’t want to fuck Keith _ !”

Pidge stuck her head into the frame then, her glasses glinting ominously in the light from the screen. She’d got another crumpet and pushed her hair back with a cotton headband, but nothing terrified Lance more in that moment.

“So his name’s Keith, huh?”

Lance gulped and looked out of the window desperately, as though some miraculous guardian angel would be floating there holding up a sign telling him what to say.

“Yes?” he tried, his voice rising through the octaves as he drew the word out.

“And he has a mullet?”

“Yes,” he growled this time, wanting nothing more than to yank that stupid hair right out of Keith’s stupid head. But that meant that he was thinking about touching Keith’s hair and that was not cool. So not cool.

“Interesting.”

“No! Not interesting! Weird!” he yelled, waving his arms. “Why are you on his side!”

“I’m not on any side, you nerd,” Pidge stuck her tongue out. “I was merely commenting on your apparent fascination with his hair. Either it makes you angry or horny, but you can’t control yourself when someone mentions it. It’s interesting.”

“Horny?” spluttered Lance, who was mildly horrified that someone he considered to be on a par with his younger sisters was talking to him about sex. “I’m not horny!” He glanced down to check and to his utmost relief there was nothing uncomfortable about his trousers, except for the fact that they were skinny jeans.

Pidge guffawed and pressed a fist to her mouth.

“Did you just check for a boner?” she laughed, making Lance’s face go red.

“ _ Pidge _ ,” he and Hunk hissed simultaneously. 

“Oh come on,” she groaned. “I’m nineteen for christ’s sakes. I went through sex ed like you did and I bet I know more about it than you do too, considering you probably just drew very detailed penises on your notepaper.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but found he couldn’t because that was exactly how he’d spent the high school compulsory class doing.

“There were vaginas too,” he muttered petulantly. 

“How did you know what a vagina looked like?” Pidge asked, crudely. Lance cringed at her language but let it slide.

“Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t a virgin at the time,” Lance said smugly. “Also, as a  _ normal _ and  _ healthy _ seventeen year old male, I watched a fair bit of porn...and I was kind of a biology nerd. I liked anatomy,” he muttered the last bit, hoping that neither of them would hear.

To his dismay, they heard it perfectly due to Hunk’s speaker upgrades. Lance didn’t need speaker upgrades to hear the hysterical laughter coming from the two after he’d stopped talking.

“I’m gonna get you that on a mug,” Hunk choked. “‘I like anatomy’, followed by two detailed diagrams of the reproductive systems of both males and females.”

“Biology nerd,” Pidge gasped, rolling around on the floor in laughter. “ _ Lance was a biology nerd _ !”

“Shut up you little shit,” Lance grumbled. He felt something lift off his chest though. Some of the pressure of the night had dissipated, though his dissertation hadn’t quite managed the same thing. He grinned at the camera and laughed when Hunk blew a sigh of relief in his direction.

“Thank god,” he said. “No offence, but angry Lance is a pain to deal with.”

“You know what? I do take offence at that. I am a delight,” Lance sniffed dramatically. “Seriously though, thanks man. I really needed that.”

“S’not the only thing you need if you know what I mean,” Pidge smirked. “Because someone is thirsty AF.”

“Yeah, for some hot cocoa and some episodes of Supernatural,” Lance retorted. “There is no way,  _ no way _ , I’m thirsty over Keith.”

 

**Keith**

 

Keith was thirsty AF. He literally could not stop thinking about hot guy, or Lance, as he shall now be known as. Fuck, how was it possible for someone to be so damn good looking?

And then, of course, there was the problem that Keith had destroyed his car. He groaned, thirst disappearing instantly, as he buried his face in his pillow. He was still in shock that he managed to confuse Rolo’s shitty land rover for Lance’s, frankly, beautiful Camaro. 

Despite this, he had spent a good ten minutes staring at Lance’s contact in his phone and squealing. (So maybe he’d downplayed his  _ small _ infatuation with the man. Sue him).

Unable to deal with the drama on his own, he decided to turn to the one person who could offer some, probably, helpful advice. 

“Hey, Pidge,” he greeted when her face appeared on the screen of his desktop. She grunted in response, one hand clutching a crumpet, her eyes trained on something offscreen.

“‘Sup buttfuck,” she said, face screaming ‘I know something you don’t’. He hated that face. 

“What do you know?” he questioned, squinting at her suspiciously. She shot him a clearly fake innocent look, one that let him know that he wasn’t gonna get anything out of her, not yet at least.

“What do I know, Keith?” 

“Never mind,” he grumbled. “Can I just rant for a bit? Because, holy shit, I fucked up and I’m so thirsty it’s unreal.”

“Yeah, just let me go to my room,” she said, picking up her laptop and carrying it upstairs, yelling something to her flatmate before slamming the door behind her. “Rant away, Romeo.”

“You know hot guy, right?” he started, tilting backwards in his chair to stare at the ceiling mournfully. “I trashed his car because I thought it was Rolo’s and now he hates me but he’s honestly the sexiest man I’ve ever seen and he’s also super fucking cute and I just wanna die.”

“Wow,” she deadpanned. He took it as invitation to continue ranting.

“It’s not just physical either! I mean, a lot of it is physical, like those arms and shoulders and that ass and his fucking face too, but...he’s so dedicated as well? You should’ve heard him earlier this evening, he was ranting to himself about his astrophysics dissertation and life on other planets,” Keith continued, letting out a long sigh. “I dunno, I know it was stupid of me to stay with Rolo while I had this huge crush on Lance, but how else was I going to see him?”

“Mmm,” Pidge mumbled around her mouthful of crumpet. “Can f’l ‘our pai’.”

“Oh yeah, because I totally understand animal.”

“Surprising, considering you’re basically a werewolf,” Pidge teased after swallowing the rest of her crumpet after minimal chewing.

Keith groaned and flopped onto his bed dramatically.

“What am I gonna do?”

“Uh, pay for his car?”

He shot her a glare from the corner of his eye and rolled onto his side so he could see the screen of his computer.

“Well that thought never occurred to me,” he drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes as hard as he could muster. 

“Look, dude, Lance is  _ not _ good at staying angry. He’s just stressed right now because he’s got a lot on his plate what with his…” she trailed off, eyes widening as she realised what she was saying. Keith bolted upright and almost toppling off his chair in shock.

“Wait. You know Lance? Like, as in,  _ know _ Lance? As in,  _ are close to and talk to _ Lance?”

Pidge groaned and ruffled her short hair.

“Yeah, and  _ damn _ Hunk must be rubbing off on me because I was gonna hold that over you for  _ ages _ ,” she moaned pouting at her keyboard. Keith’s mouth was open in undisguised horror.

“Oh my  _ god _ . He’s the Lance who pulled that massive prank on the dean and dyed his hair green and purple and styled it in an afro after he knocked him out with sleeping pills he stole from the nurse’s office,” Keith blurted out, remembering a story he’d heard from Pidge during one of their all-nighters. Keith hadn’t actually been present at the time since he was studying to be a mechanical engineer in a different area of campus, but that prank had been legendary, purely because the culprit had never been caught.

“Yep,” she confirmed, dropping out of frame for a second while Keith had a mental breakdown.

And suddenly Keith had a brainwave. He could get all the information he needed about Lance (sexuality. He needed to know his sexuality and his current relationship status) if he just bribed Pidge with enough crumpets to satisfy the entire population of Britain.

“Hey, Pidge?”

 

**Lance**

 

Despite his friends and the majority of his extended family expressing their disbelief over his timetable choices, Lance never regretted taking an eight-thirty a.m. lecture on a Monday. Sure, it sounded hellish, and sometimes he just wanted to curl into a small ball when his alarm went off, but overall...it was a pretty sweet set-up.

A major reason he had picked Stanford University was not only because it ranked third in the 2017 top aeronautics and astronautics degrees, but because Professor Colleen Holt worked there. And she took the eight-thirty Monday morning lecture, which, despite her infamy, was usually ten people max. So he got to ask her all the shit he liked.

Yeah, Pidge was still weirded out by the huge hero-worship thing he had for her entire family. Sam Holt was a genius in space exploration and had funded and captained the Centauri mission, Matt Holt was the youngest person to fly a solo mission to an ice moon and find evidence of microscopic life on it and Colleen was not only the coolest person he knew, but had designed and helped build the rocket ships that had transported her husband and son to their destinations.

So fucking cool.

Which meant that when his alarm went off at seven-thirty the next morning, he was in a great mood. His dissertation about life on other planets was due for another teacher, his terraforming and exobiology professor. Basically the campus nutcase who believed in aliens.

Of course, Lance believed in aliens as well, but Professor Slav was a bit strange.

He got up and dressed promptly, read through last lesson’s notes and headed for the space themed café he’d seen for the first time last week at the end of his street. He pushed open the doors, nose still buried in his physics textbook and went to the counter.

“What can I get you?” came a vaguely familiar voice. He looked up and promptly dropped his  _ large, thousand page long, heavy, hardback textbook _ on his foot.

“Fuck!” he yelped, bringing up his knee reflexively to grasp his foot and slamming it on the counter in the process. “Shit!”

“Woah! Are you okay?” Keith asked, voice coloured with concern that only served to make Lance angrier.

He shot a glare at the man in question, only to be distracted by those incandescent navy purple eyes peering out at him from a pale face with a strong jawline and soft lips. Lance felt heat crawl up his neck and knew that his ears were glowing red so he averted his eyes to his textbook lying open on the floor.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he grunted, picking up his book, smoothing down the cover and placing it gingerly on the counter. To his surprise, when he looked back up at Keith, there was a light pink flush on his cheeks.

“Listen...I’m really  _ really _ sorry…” Keith muttered, twisting his hands together nervously. In all his disoriented glory, Lance had to take a moment to figure out what the, frankly, beautiful man was talking about. Images of his baby flashed through his mind, twisting his slack-jawed expression into a pained one.

“It’s, uh...it’ll be fine,” he replied, tapping a rhythm with his fingers on the galactic high definition photograph that covered the front of the book. 

“So...coffee! What do you want?” Keith blurted, drawing even more attention from the groggy early morning commuters and college students.

“Oh! I’ll have a um...regular latte macchiato please,” Lance said, glancing up at the menu even though he knew his regular by heart and it was so common he could find it in any coffee shop in the world. “To go.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow, but entered it to the till, charged him the money and turned to handle the steamer with apparent ease. A few minutes later and his coffee was sitting on the counter in a disposable recyclable cup. Keith slipped it into the convenient little holder thing and slid it over to him.

“Here you are,” he said. Their fingers brushed as Lance took it from him, and Lance’s heart jumped a little in his chest.

Oh no. No way. Absolutely not happening, no chance, no  _ thank you _ , not today. There was more probability of Lance surviving the vacuum of the void than there was of this happening with his consent. 

That sexual tension he was talking about? So maybe it was occurring more rapidly than he was expecting. To hide his face he took a quick gulp of his coffee, barely noticing the scalding temperature as it burned his esophagus.

“Dude,” Keith deadpanned, watching him with wide (purple, how are they  _ purple _ ) eyes. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Oh you know...I like to swallow,” Lance replied, a wink already dropping and then his face turned bright red and he took a large step backwards. “Okay! Thank you! Goodbye!” And with that he turned and high-tailed it out of the café, not turning to look back as he willed the humiliated blush to drain from his face.

“Oh my god. Oh my  _ god _ . What the fuck was that?” he muttered to himself, hand clenching around his cup. “What was I doing? He trashed my car! Why am I like this?”

He continued marching down the street towards the physics and astrophysics building, forcing other people to weave around him as he replayed the entire awful encounter in his mind.

When he reached the main building, he took a deep breath and pushed the memory from his mind. 

“Panic later,” he told himself as he headed to his normal seat in the theatre, about halfway up and in the middle. “Just focus on the lecture.”

He rummaged through his bag for his textbook and froze when he realised.

“Fuck. I left it in the café.”


	2. Part 2

**Keith**

 

Keith stared at the door that had just slammed closed after Lance had left. What the fuck was that? Was that...was that a pick up line? Or just a joke?

He was sure his face was redder than his favourite jacket. Fuck. Lance was too cute.

Keith hadn’t been paying much attention when the door swung open earlier, the little bell announcing the arrival of another customer. He glanced up once before returning his focus to the till, but started and looked straight up again. The tall college kid making his way to the counter had his nose buried in an enormous, heavy-looking textbook and only his tousled bed-hair was visible but Keith recognised him immediately.

He took a deep breath and spat out the regular greeting, but what followed after was anything but regular. Lance had immediately dropped the book on his foot and somehow kneed the counter, but Keith definitely wasn’t paying attention to that.

Remember Keith had once caught Lance wearing glasses? Yeah. He was wearing glasses again. They made his deep blue eyes look ever-so-slightly larger, and the half-frame followed the line of his sharp cheekbones perfectly. Keith swiped at his chin discreetly to check for any drool.

Lance was wearing a scoop neck black t-shirt with a loose grey-blue jacket that hugged his broad shoulders. There was a large black piercing in one ear and he had pulled a black cuff over one wrist. A thin leather necklace hung around his neck on the end of which was a tiny wooden charm. Keith found himself leaning closer, close enough to smell the faint hint of fresh deodorant before he backed off quickly.

The rest of the exchange passed in a blur for him. He remembered being surprised at Lance’s coffee choice, expecting a long spiel with four pumps of hazelnut syrup and buckets of sugar and milk, but the simple latte macchiato threw him for a loop.

And when Lance made that lewd comment after swallowing scalding coffee, Keith’s face erupted into flames. Lance had beat a quick retreat after that and disappeared into the street, shoulders high and tense.

Keith groaned and slumped forwards onto the counter, pushing something off that landed with a loud bang.

Lance’s textbook. Keith hopped over the counter and picked it up, staring at the cover. An Introduction to Modern Astrophysics by Bradley W. Carroll and Dale A. Ostlie. Keith had never heard of it before. Unable to resist, he opened the cover. In messy, chicken-scratch handwriting was the name ‘Lance Reyes-McClain’ followed by a room number. He turned the next page and was assaulted by a large amount of small text along with a couple of complicated diagrams. Alongside it was Lance’s hurried writing, some of it illegible, the pages marked with colourful sticky tabs and the corners of others folded down. It opened automatically to a page with several sticky notes in, one of which read: ‘to gain job in TAD programme, research cosmology, astroecology and astrogeology - cool shit about how life on other planets can survive due to their environments! So exciting’ followed by a hastily drawn smiley face.

Keith internally squealed and jumped up and down on the spot. Lance was a space nerd! There were space doodles lining the margins and little drawings of aliens that had speech bubbles saying what he wanted to note down.

When his shift was finally over, he managed to squeeze the enormous textbook into his bag and lugged it back to his place.

He pored over the book for a long while, utterly entranced by this chunk of Lance’s personality and also by the complexity of his major. Not wanting to sound mean in any way, but Lance just didn’t scream academia. In fact, judging by the snapchat videos he saw on people’s stories, he was the life and soul of the party, yet here he was, diligently studying aeronautics and astronautics in order to get a job at the Terrestrial Aerospace Development programme.

Huh. Maybe that was how he could gain Lance’s favour. He knew being best friends with Takashi Shirogane would have some perks somewhere along the line. Hell, he’d been waiting long enough for them.

With that thought in mind, he Skyped Shiro, who should be on break.

“Keith! What’s up?” Shiro asked, a wide grin across his face. “I heard from Matt, who heard from Pidge, that you smashed your crush’s car up? When I said get his attention, I didn’t mean make him hate you, you know,” he teased. Keith groaned and shot him his best death glare.

“Your advice sucks,” Keith grumbled. “And besides, I only called you because I want you to do something for me.”

“Oh yeah? What?” Shiro asked dubiously, fixing Keith with a suspicious look.

“Lance really likes space and wants to work at TAD so could you please come and meet him with me so that he stops hating me please?” Keith blurted out in one go. Shiro’s expression became more and more gleeful as he continued.

“You want me to come and meet your crush so you can impress him? Awwww, _Keith_ ,” he said, clasping his hands beneath his chin. Keith scowled at the camera.

“Shut the fuck up or I will remove all the gas cylinders from your car and rig them to your oven so that the next time you want a late night snack you’ll be blown sky high,” Keith threatened, crossing his arms and glaring at Shiro.

“Alright, alright! I’ll come and meet Loverboy Lance with you. What’s he studying anyway?”

“I, uh...don’t know? Something to do with astrophysics.”

“He’s probably either majoring in physics with a concentration in astronomy or he could be doing a different major and minoring in astronomy...you don’t even know what your crush is _studying_ Keith? I’m disappointed.”

“Shiro…” Keith growled, clenching a fist.

“Sorry! Anyway, my break’s almost over, so I gotta ditch. Talk later?”

“Yeah, see you, asshole,” Keith said, hanging up the call before Shiro could retort. He got a ding alerting him to a message which read ‘takes one to know one’ a second or two later.

 

**Lance**

 

He stared at the number in his phone. He hadn’t spoken to Keith since the embarrassing, awful, cringe-worthy, humiliating meeting a few days ago. But he really needed his textbook and apparently Keith had taken it with him after his shift that day.

Well, he had to text at some point. Not only about the book, but about his car. Which would apparently cost fifteen hundred dollars to repair, a number that made him want to cry.

 

_L: hey man, its lance_

_L: wondering if you had my textbook, kinda need it asap_

_L: also its gonna cost like 1500 dollars so we need to talk about that too_

 

There was no reply for a good thirty minutes, during which Lance bit his nails down to the beds, cleaned every plate he had in his apartment, made his bed three times and sorted out all the video games he owned.

 

_K: yh, i have your book_

_K: you can come round mine and collect it tomorrow if you want_

_K: and i can afford that_

 

Oh, he could afford that could he? Lance seethed at his phone, typing out an angry text message but slowing down as he realised that sending it would be dumb. After all, he wanted Keith to pay the bill, didn’t he?

Just because someone else had their life sorted out, didn’t mean he should crap all over their parade.

 

_L: sounds good_

_L: lemme know a good time?_

_K: i have a lab at ten thirty so any time after thats fine_

_L: ill be there at about twelve_

_L: address?_

_K: you know stanford west apartments?_

_L: yh, place on clark st right_

_K: block 24 room 117_

_L: cool see you later_

 

Okay, so maybe he’d been thinking about Keith more than was socially acceptable. In ways that didn’t exactly line up with the whole ‘he’s an asshole and I hate his guts’ attitude he was trying to pull off.

It wasn’t his fault though. Keith was...well. He was beautiful. Long, thick dark hair that framed his pale face perfectly. Lance had been close enough to see the tiny faint freckles on his nose, and his eyes were practically out of this world. Keith might not have been as broad in the shoulders as Lance, but his arms were toned and strong, his ass round and perky, his waist small but firm and muscular, or so Lance assumed.

As an expert of denial, Lance could recognise when he’d been playing himself for a fool, and the truth was he’d been attracted to Keith for a while now. Ever since his ex-girlfriend Nyma’s stoner friend Rolo had brought him home and almost crashed through his front door, Lance had harboured a fair bit of jealousy that someone that fucked up could snag someone that gorgeous.

Lance had seen Keith working at his mechanical engineering lab before. He’d rolled out from underneath the hood of a car, wearing a tight black tank and sweats that hung low on his hips revealing a sliver of pale skin at his waist. At the time he’d glared at him through the window and continued walking, but a tiny internal voice had been screaming in his mind for the rest of the day.

Still, Keith hadn’t returned to his block of flats since the fight that had resulted in the death of his beloved, so that probably meant he and Rolo were over. Right?

Lance slapped himself in the face. Keith probably hated him anyway, after all Lance is making him cough up over a grand to pay for his car. It was Keith’s fault, but still. Lance wouldn’t be happy if he were in Keith’s shoes.

It would all be fine. He’d pick up his book and his money when he went to Keith’s place tomorrow and everything would go back to how it was before they’d even met. Oh, and he could mark off that space café as ‘never set foot in again’.

He dragged his laptop towards him and started typing, trying to focus on the dissertation that he still hadn’t finished. Game night at Hunk’s had thrown off his groove and he’d accidentally stopped mid sentence and now had no fucking clue what his point was.

Professor Holt had given him some great material though that he was desperate to include. She’d even given him a portion of her soon to be published book which contained results from the controlled experiment in which she had cultivated the conditions needed to create life!

One of Lance’s skills was his innate ability to completely block out everything around him when he was working. This was also quite irritating at times since he looked up from his paper about two hours later and found that he was twenty minutes late for his weekly chat with his mum.

“Shit!” he yelped, saving his work frantically and opening up the Skype app where seven missed calls from ‘Mamá’ sat threateningly in the chat box.

He took a deep breath and tapped the call icon, plastering his apologetic wince onto his face as the full wrath of Maria Reyes came down upon him.

“ _Lo siento, mamá_ ,” he said over her angry shouts. His siblings gathered around the screen, excited to see his face. As the oldest of eight with a weirdly big gap between him and his closest sibling, they were all fascinated by the idea of college. He was nineteen, and the next one in the list was Ciara who was turning twelve this year.

He laughed as they babbled and squawked at him and cooed when his baby brother Luiz lifted the even tinier Theodore into frame who had been born two months ago.

Of course, there was the other significant gap between him and all his siblings. Lance’s biological dad wasn’t the same as Ciara, Alejo, Gabriel, Tammy, Luiz, Javier or Theo’s dad. Lance’s dad had died in a pilot accident when he turned five. If he was honest, his father was what lit that whole space nerd thing up inside him. He’d bought him his first telescope and helped put all the glow in the dark paint up on his bedroom ceiling so that it was a perfect replica of the constellations outside.

Caolan McClain stepped into the picture, his broad Irish build completely different to Lance’s tall, lanky frame. Still, Caolan had been nothing but a good dad for Lance ever since he’d stepped into their lives when Lance had turned seven. Maria had fallen completely in love with him and after an admittedly rocky start, Lance had accepted him and their new daughter into his family. After all, he’d always wanted a sibling.

“So, how’s my Camaro holding up, son?” Caolan asked, Irish accent still strong despite the numerous years he’d spent in Florida, all the way on the other side of the country.

Lance gulped and his eyes broke contact with his family. His siblings burst into laughter, the twins Javier and Luiz chanting something along the lines of ‘Lancey crashed, Lancey crashed!’ which of course made him feel ten times better.

“Yeah, about that…”

 

**Keith**

 

“Hey, Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you maybe, I dunno, possibly come to mine tomorrow for twelve? Like, before twelve, but around that time? Half eleven ish?”

Shiro’s face broke into a sneaky grin and he fixed Keith with a knowing look. Keith was currently avoiding Shiro’s gaze, wincing as he stumbled his way through the embarrassing request.

“Is _Lance_ coming over?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled. “I want to introduce you guys but not make it seem like I’m trying to get in his pants, you know? I recruited Pidge to spy on Lance for me and apparently he mentions me a little bit to Hunk-” that information had had him squealing a little bit “-so I’m hopeful we can move past the whole ‘I smashed up your car with a baseball bat’ thing…”

“You recruited Pidge to spy on Lance?”

“Yeah, she let it slip that she knew him on the night that I...well, and so I asked if she could uh...keep me posted.”

“Keep you posted? Keith, you’re not running a covert spy operation,” Shiro snorted, face alight with mirth.

“Look, will you come or not,” Keith snapped, running a hand over his hair.

“Course I will! Wouldn’t want to miss out on meeting my little bro’s crush, would I?”

Keith groaned and hung up. He was getting easily distracted these days. His mechanical engineering was going slower than usual and he hadn’t visited the chem lab in a while so he didn’t know if his fuel was actually gonna work in his car, but somehow it didn’t seem as important to him anymore.

Still, class was kind of essential if he wanted to stay at Stanford, so he went to bed early in the hopes of the lab going by faster.

It did, but he got so caught up in his work that he realised that he was running a bit late. The lab finished at eleven and it was currently twenty past which meant he only had forty five minutes until Lance arrived, which was, if you didn’t guess, _not enough time_.

He sprinted to his apartment which was luckily only a ten minute walk from the labs and barrelled straight into Shiro who was waiting outside.

“Whoa! Keith, slow down!” he yelped, steadying Keith with one hand while trying to catch his balance without upending his coffee all down his nice new shirt.

“No time!” Keith shouted, fumbling with his keys. “Apartment’s a mess, need to shower and change, no food,” he ranted as he leapt into the shower, shedding clothes behind him.

“Oh, man, I did _not_ need to see your ass today,” Shiro whined, collapsing onto the couch. Keith limited himself to a five minute shower with a blow dry for his hair rather than a ten minute shower and no blow dry. That way he wouldn’t look like a drowned rat when Lance showed up.

He yanked on a clean dark t-shirt that was somewhere between navy-indigo and black but apparently ‘made his eyes pop’ and a pair of distressed black skinny jeans. Dragging a brush through his hair he skidded into the kitchen and threw all the dirty plates into the washing machine and threw out that disgusting three week old pizza slice he still had lying around in the fridge before throwing some nachos into the oven and calling it a day.

“Now what?” Shiro asked in amusement as Keith threw himself down on the couch next to him.

“Now we act casual,” Keith hissed, switching on the television with an air of forced nonchalance. “You just happened to be visiting, I did not invite you here to get into Lance’s good graces and you know nothing about him because I don’t talk about him. Understand?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Shiro said, snapping his heels together and saluting.

The next fifteen minutes were torturous to Keith. Whenever someone walked past his door, he found his knee start bouncing and when no knock came it bounced even faster. Eventually his entire left leg was one vibrating mass of anxiety.

There was a knock at the door.

Keith swallowed, shot one more warning glance at Shiro and headed for the door.

“Hey man,” Lance greeted as the door swung open. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

Keith had to take a minute to stare at Lance, who was dressed in a black sleeveless hoodie and skinny grey jeans. Wow. He had not been expecting Lance to be that toned. He may have been lanky, but holy mother, those biceps did not lie.

“Oh, no problem,” he forced out, standing back to let Lance in (which had the surprising but not unwelcome effect of a view of that delicious looking ass).

“So, I hate to bring this up,” Lance was saying as he headed into the house, completely ignoring or missing Shiro’s presence. “But I really do need you to give me the money for the repairs...and I’m sorry that I called you an asshole except not really because you totally were but I probably could have handled it better…” he trailed off awkwardly, scratching his neck.

“It’s fine,” Keith said. He’d been hoping for this anyway, so that they could finally leave the incident in the past where it belonged. “I withdrew the cash yesterday, it’s in the envelope on the counter.”

Lance looked shocked, casting a glance around his apartment, taking in the wide screen TV, balcony, state of the art kitchen appliances and soundless air conditioning. His eyes eventually landed on Shiro where they widened exponentially. He made an aborted sound in his throat and grabbed the edge of the counter in shock.

“You have Takashi Shirogane in your house?” Lance wheezed, still staring bug-eyed at the man. Keith grinned internally at his reaction and shrugged as though confused.

“Yeah, I mean, he’s my step-brother, so…”

Lance spluttered, clenching his hand on the counter.

“The fuck? Your step-brother is Takashi Shiro-fucking-gane?”

 

**Lance**

 

Lance was standing in the same room as Lieutenant Shirogane. That’s right, he, Lance Reyes-McClain was standing in the same room as Lieutenant Takashi Shirogane, captain of three space exploration missions at the ripe age of twenty four after graduating from the Garrison Military Academy in record time and getting an instant employment at TAD under Samuel Holt himself.

He patted his chest and neck to make sure he was actually real. After a hard pinch to his thigh, he determined that this was actually happening.

Holy shit. He had to talk to Shirogane. But what would he say? Would Shirogane even want to talk to him? What if he was too enthusiastic? Even Pidge said she didn’t understand him sometimes when he started babbling about how the geology of some moons could support life in years to come.

“Hey, Shiro, come and meet my friend, Lance,” Keith called into the living room. Lance went white as a sheet and stared frantically at Keith. What the bloody hell was he doing?

“Nice to meet you Lance,” Shiro greeted, walking into the kitchen like the six foot three tall piece of muscle man he was. “Keith’s said a lot about you.”

Lance, oblivious to the furious reddening of Keith’s face behind him, blanched and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“I, uh...all good things, I hope?” he finally stammered out.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Shiro assured, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that somehow made Lance relax instantly. He grinned and stuck out a slightly clammy hand for Shiro to shake.

“And of course, Keith doesn’t share much, but I’ve heard all about you, Shirogane,” Lance gushed, a wide smile on his face. “Your space explorations are legendary, no pun intended.”

“Was that a Voltron reference?” Shiro laughed, waving off his praises bashfully. “I didn’t think anyone liked that show from our generation except me!”

Lance chuckled, and after a few more minutes of small talk, eagerly followed Shiro into the lounge.

“So, Shirogane-”

“Please, Shiro is fine,” the man interrupted, taking a sip of beer from a bottle on the side table.

“Right, Shiro...well, I was just wondering if you could maybe, possibly...read through my dissertation on the probability of protein based organisms existing in space?” Lance spat out in a rush, sitting forwards on his seat anxiously. “I’m majoring aeronautics and astronautics with a minor in astronomy so for an enrichment I’m taking exobiology and it’s just...a lot. I could really use the help!”

“Wow,” Shiro said, sounding impressed. “I took the easy route and got into the Terrestrial Aerospace Development programme through the military after taking a pilot specific course in the Garrison.”

“That’s still very impressive,” Lance protested. “You did complete a five year course in under half the time.”

Shiro merely laughed, but a slight blush came to his cheeks, which made Lance coo like a mother watching her child’s first words.

“I’d be honoured to read it,” Shiro said, scribbling an email down on a scrap piece of paper. “Send it to me whenever.”

Lance managed not to squeal when Shiro passed him the paper. He had an actual contact in the TAD programme now! A real life space explorer was going to proofread his paper! And it was all thanks to-

Keith.

Unable to completely regain sobriety after his joy filled afternoon, Lance merely calmed down his space rambling, but his mind was fixated on Keith, who was in the kitchen speaking to a tiny red kitten on the counter. Keith, with his stupid mullet looking stupidly good in a messy ponytail with long strands falling around his stupidly perfect face and his stupidly soft skin. (Of course, Lance was only assuming Keith’s skin was soft, having never touched it before. And now he was thinking about touching Keith. Great).

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, _no_.

Shiro was looking at him in concern, making him realise he’d just stopped talking mid sentence.

“I, uh…” Lance croaked, tearing his eyes from the nauseating (a-fucking-dorable) scene in the kitchen. “I should probably go…”

“You’re leaving?” Keith called from the kitchen, neither looking happy nor sad about it. “I’ll show you out. Don’t forget your book.”

“Eat me, MacGyver,” Lance retorted. “The eighties called, they want to repossess you with the spirit of Billy Ray Cyrus.”

“I don’t even know what you’re saying,” Keith said, a nauseating (a- _fucking_ -dorable) confused expression crossing his face. “But I’m sure it was really, really hurtful. Ow.”

Still muttering under his breath, Lance stalked out of the door (okay, he did give Keith a smile and wave because he wasn’t raised under a rock and what would his Mamá say?) and headed back to his apartment. As soon as he was safe behind his own front door he slid down into a ball and yelled into his knees.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

 

**Keith**

 

“Hey, Shiro?” Keith said, shutting the door behind Lance, completely bewildered by their exchange. “What does MacGyver mean?”

Shiro snorted, looked at him and burst into laughter.

“It’s a reference to a character in a TV show,” he managed to get out. “He had a mullet.”

Keith scowled, touching his hair petulantly. He liked the cut, it was the only one that looked good on him since his hair was too thick and coarse to really style carefully. And it hadn’t been the first time someone had called it a mullet either.

“What else did he say?” Shiro asked, curiosity displayed plainly on his face.

“...he said that the eighties called and wanted to repossess me with the spirit of Billy Ray Cyrus, whoever the fuck that is,” Keith muttered, hoping Shiro wouldn’t hear the confession. To his dismay, Shiro crazy hearing made up for his shitty eyesight and he heard every word.

Pouting, Keith made his way into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. He couldn’t stay grumpy for long though, since memories of Lance sitting right next to where he was now crept into his mind and made him smile giddily.

“He’s great,” Shiro was saying. “Very relaxed, approachable...and interesting too. Did you hear what he had to say on intergalactic space travel as a tourist venture in the future? People like him are what’s gonna make the entire face of space exploration evolve.”

“Did you _see_ his arms?” Keith interrupted. “I’m sorry, when does a _space nerd_ have time to fucking do weights or some shit? What, do you think he does bicep curls while writing essays one handed?”

“Keith,” Shiro replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna have you to lower the thirst a little bit.”

Keith groaned and planted himself face down in the couch cushions.

“I’m gonna have to ask him out, aren’t I?” he mumbled into the sofa. “If I don’t then he’s gonna get a girlfriend and take her on dates and shit...I wanna do that! What makes her any better than me? I’ll fucking fight her. I could take her in a fight any day, I have a black belt in Taekkyeon. And I have a wrench and a bunch of lethal power tools. Shiro, I’m gonna fight Lance’s girlfriend,” he declared, rolling over to glare at the ceiling. “And I’ll rip her fucking hair out and strangle her with it.”

“Keith,” Shiro sighed. “Lance doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“You’re completely missing the point!”

“Okay. I’ll just leave you to it, then,” Shiro said sarcastically, pulling on his jacket and leaving. “Don’t set your mullet on fire trying to figure this out, Keith!” were his parting words before the door closed behind him.

“Don’t set your mullet on fire, Keith,” Keith mimicked. “Don’t try to lick Lance’s neck, Keith. Don’t punch Lance’s girlfriend in the face, Keith!” He dragged himself off of the couch and powered up his desktop to find a handful of messages from none other than Pidge.

 

_P: Hey dude, update for ya_

_P: Apparently he arrived home thirty minutes ago and had a mental breakdown because of you._

_P: Congrats_

_P: Just gonna clarify because you’re an idiot:_

_P: He was freaking out because you’re ‘cute’ and ‘hot’ and ‘stupid’ and_

_P: WAIT, YOU INTRODUCED HIM TO SHITO?_

_P: I WAS GOING TO DO THAT!_

_K: why does it matter_

_P: I wanted to be there to watch him lose his shit!_

_K: he didnt lose his shit_

_K: he was as confident as always except for the start_

_P: *didn’t_

_P: And boo._

_P: That sucks._

_P: What about you? Were you the cool, calm and collected Keith Kogane we all know and love?_

_K: eh_

_P: Eh? You’re telling me you DIDN’T woo Lance into bed?_

_K: stfu pidge_

_P: *Shut the fuck up, Pidge_

_K: if i had you probably wouldnt be talking to me rn_

_P: *I **wouldn’t ***right now_

_P: Honestly, did you even pass English?_

_K: no_

_P: And that’s disgusting. I don’t need to hear about your freaky fantasies_

_K: no kink shaming in this chat_

_P: >:( _

_P: I have to go, Matt just showed up and I want to show him Rover 2.0. Talk later!_

_(Pidge Podge has signed out)_

Keith closed the chat window and fell back in his chair, staring glumly out of the window. What if Lance didn’t like him back? What if Lance wasn’t single? What if Lance was homophobic?

Well, he definitely wasn’t a homophobe, he was out of the closet as bi coming up for a year now. And Keith knew he was single from that girl at the coffee shop who kept ogling him and asking for a date.

Maybe he should just bite the bullet and ask. After all, it’s not like they were great friends anyway. Keith wouldn’t really lose anything except for some of his dignity.

Yeah, he should just do it and ask. He took a deep, steadying breath and picked up his phone.

 

_K: hey, wanna meet up tomorrow_

 

**Lance**

 

So maybe this Keith thing wasn’t as serious as he thought. After all, it was fairly common knowledge that Keith was an attractive guy and as a flaming bisexual, it was only normal for him to notice, right?

Of course, all the internet trawling he’d done under ‘a friend of mine is really hot what do I do’ and ‘what to do when you think you want to have sex with a friend’ had told him that it was most likely that he had a crush on said friend. But really, what do they know? Every situation is different after all. It could be that this entire thing was completely physical.

He woke up the next morning feeling finally happy and relaxed again. He’d sent his essay to Shiro, he had enough time this evening to call a tow truck to take his mangled Camaro to the garage and pay for the repairs, and it was game night tomorrow. Everything was right with the world again. He hummed a little as he got dressed and checked his phone only to do a spit take with his mouthful of delicious, cold, sweet orange juice.

 

_K: hey, wanna meet up tomorrow_

 

It was sent yesterday.

Why the fuck would Keith want to meet up? Their entire relationship had been built upon Keith trashing his car? Surely it was over now?

He stared dismally down at his now sticky shirt and decided to change it instead of replying. Procrastination was necessary in these moments.

What harm could it do? He thought to himself as he threw the dirty shirt in the laundry bin. Just a friendly meeting between friends. He did that all the time, hell he was doing it tomorrow night for game night. It would be good to start afresh with Keith; from what he’d seen the man was actually a very loyal and caring guy, albeit one who owned a cat. (Lance didn’t like cats).

_L: yh sure_

_L: where?_

_K: the cafe you left your book in_

_L: okay sounds good_

_L: i have a class now_

_L: how about at twelve?_

_K: sure_

 

Lance’s thumbs hovered over the keypad for a split second longer before he huffed to himself and shoved his phone into his pocket. The conversation was over, no need to keep texting.

Pushing all thoughts of Keith from his mind, he speed walked over to his class where they were dismantling engines in order to determine a fault in the system. This was really more Hunk’s area of expertise, but Lance could probably do it in a pinch. And they were working in pairs anyway.

As always, ‘space nerd stuff’, as Pidge called it, managed to distract him up until half eleven when his class ended. Then he looked down at himself and yelped in horror at his appearance. There was grease smudged across his face and shirt, his nails were filthy and his hair was a complete disaster. He sprinted, yes _sprinted_ , back to his apartment where he managed to clean up in record time before sprinting, yes _sprinting_ , to the space café.

This time around he managed to spot the name written in stylized font above the door frame spelling out ‘The Oriande System’. He snorted at the reference, and took a moment to catch his breath before stepping inside the café.

“Lance!” called a voice towards the back of the shop. There, in the corner of the most private booth, was Keith, who waved a hand in greeting. Lance smiled at him and slid into the seat opposite.

“Hey man,” Lance greeted, unsure of what to do with his hands. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Keith replied. “Just had a mechanics practical and my idiot shadow student almost blew up the lab, but apart from that it was fine. You?”

“Dismantled a rocket engine,” Lance said, smile coming more easily as he remembered the class. “It was from the Atlas Agena, you know, the rocket that did all those missions to Venus and Mars in the 60s and 70s?”

“Sounds cool,” Keith smiled. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lance said, searching his pockets for some cash. “I’ll have a-”

“Regular latte macchiato, I remember,” Keith smirked. “And I got it, don’t worry.”

Lance stared, bemused as Keith went off to the counter. That was weird, right? So he’d told Keith his order once, but since when did baristas memorise the preference of one customer who wasn’t even a regular? And why was Keith paying?

Keith came back pretty quickly and slid the hot drink over to Lance who took a careful sip and sighed as the bitter liquid seared his mouth.

“How the fuck do you do that?” Keith asked, staring in horror at Lance.

“Do what?”

“That literally just came out of the machine, it must be boiling!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty hot, but that’s the way I like it,” Lance replied, taking another gulp. “Besides, if I wanted cold coffee, I’d ask for it iced.”

Keith opened his mouth as if to reply, but apparently decided against and took a large gulp of his own drink, a tall milkshake.

They drank in silence for a few moments until Lance couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Uh, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this…”

“Is this what?”

Lance lifted his eyes to meet Keith’s, who just looked confused and concerned with Lance’s behaviour. Nevermind, then.

“Nah, don’t worry.”

They fell back into silence. It was awkward, there was no other word for it and Keith’s straw was obnoxiously loud.

“Fuck it,” Keith muttered suddenly. “Lance? Do you maybe want to go on a date with me?”

Lance froze, mug halfway to his lips and startled expression on his face. Did he want to go on a date with Keith? Dating meant romance, meant soft kisses and walks on the beach and cuddles. Did he want that with Keith? Sweet, cute, hot as hell but awkward to boot Keith?

And the answer was clear as day, right there in front of him in the form of a nervously blushing boy with an atrocious mullet and purple eyes.

 

**Keith**

 

Lance was taking way too long to answer. If Keith wasn’t sweating earlier, he sure as hell was now. That’s not to say that Lance didn’t look cute though, frozen in position, lips parted slightly, a deer in the headlights look on his handsome face.

Several expressions flew across his face in quick succession, too fast for Keith to recognise any of them. Lance put down his mug and made eye contact with Keith, _finally_.

“Okay,” he said and it was Keith’s turn to freeze in shock. He honestly hadn’t considered what would happen if Lance said yes. Of course, he’d realised that yes meant cuddles and yes meant happiness and being part of a _pair_ (which Keith hadn’t ever really experienced because it was always Mum and Shiro _and_ Keith or Ed and Mum _and_ Keith or Matt and Pidge _and_ Keith and damn it, Keith was sick of being the third wheel).

But Lance said _yes_ which meant...which meant…

“Does this make us boyfriends?” Keith blurted, startling Lance yet again. This time however, there was no hesitation, no freezing of hands or eyes.

“Generally that is what asking someone out means,” Lance laughed, teasing Keith with a fond air. And how had Keith missed this? Lance always seemed so angry with Keith whether it be because he wouldn’t shut up when he went to Rolo’s or the car incident.

Keith bit his lip to stop himself squealing like an idiot, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Lance who grinned and leaned closer to Keith’s face across the table.

“I want to do that,” he murmured and damn it, Lance. That was not an okay thing to say five minutes after they’ve officially started dating in the middle of a coffee shop.

Keith couldn’t help it. He squeaked. Where had the cool, calm, collected Keith Kogane everyone knew and loved gone? Well, that Keith’s not in at the moment, please leave a message at the tone, _beep_.

Instead, Keith was stuck with the shy, squeaky, blushy Keith who always seemed to emerge when Keith was hammered or when something good was happening to him. Like this, for example.

“Are you okay?” Lance said, leaning backwards and looking at Keith in concern. “Was that too much?”

“No,” Keith assured, grabbing Lance’s wrist to stop him moving too far away. “I’m just...a little bit awkward at first.”

Lance laughed at that, but it was gentle and he lifted a hand to tuck some of Keith’s hair behind his ear.

“I got that funnily enough,” came the response and Keith couldn’t help laughing as well until it deteriorated so much that they were just snorting into their mugs and trying not to draw too much attention.

After their impromptu date (was it a date?) Lance insisted on walking Keith home. They held hands and Keith worried for the entire walk whether his hand was sweaty but Lance wouldn’t let go of him so he could wipe it on his trousers.

“They’re not sweaty, babe,” Lance said, swinging their clasped hands in a wide arc between them. “Trust me.”

They reached Keith’s door all too soon and Keith, for once, was upset at the thought of being alone for the rest of the evening.

“I’d invite you inside, but…”  
“Yeah, that’s moving a bit too fast even for me, sweetheart,” Lance said, giving him a sweet smile and two kisses, one on the hand he was still holding and one on the cheek. Keith had to say he was a little disappointed, but turned away to unlock his door.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Lance tutted in disapproval, grabbing Keith’s shoulders and turning him around. “I wasn’t finished.”

And he leaned in, eyes flicking to Keith’s to check. Keith’s breath hitched a little at the sight of so much dark blue and then Lance’s lips were on his, a brief pressure behind them and a little huff of breath from slightly parted lips. Keith raised his arms to wrap around Lance’s neck and went onto his tip toes slightly, which only made him marginally annoyed this time.

And hell, Keith had never been so glad that he somehow managed to confuse Rolo’s shitty land rover with Lance’s beautiful Camaro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while since I last posted something new, so here's my first Klance fic, hope you enjoy!
> 
> So, something interesting happened in my life recently that I thought I'd share with you. I asked out my crush of three years last week and he said no. I mean, it was a straightforward, solid no.
> 
> I'm saying this because life isn't like fanfics where the guy gets the guy or girl or whatever he wants to be dating, you know? Rejection does exist and we should accept it for what it is. 
> 
> However, even though he rejected me, I didn't cry about it. Maybe my crush wasn't that strong or maybe I was kind of over him already, but I felt really good about it. I'm not gonna pretend to have any mental health issues, I don't have depression or anxiety, but I have always had self-confidence issues so asking someone out was a big deal for me. And despite not getting a date, I was happy because I finally did something that I'd wanted to do for a long while. Of course, I do think about it sometimes and cringe, but that's to be expected. I told someone how I felt about them and they didn't feel the same, but that doesn't mean no one will. There are 7 billion fish in the sea, after all.
> 
> I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you have a crush or you're in the closet or anything, you might just be surprised by how talking about it might help. I'm not saying that everyone is going to feel better about themselves after, because rejection is hard and homophobia and transphobia are real problems, but there are always going to be people who accept you.
> 
> That's all I really wanted to say! Have a great day!  
> ~Marshy :)


	3. Epilogue

“Oh shit.”

Lance stared in horror at the sight before him.

“Oh fuck me sideways up a creek,” he said, covering his face with both hands. How had this happened? He swore he didn’t see it in his rearview, but it was so glaringly obvious. Keith was absolutely going to murder him.

“This cannot be happening right now.”

There, before him, was Keith’s new bike. The new, five thousand pound bike that he’d been saving for for a year. 

Its back end was roughly the width of a pancake.

Lance felt numb with shock, and his fingers started fumbling for his phone. Somehow, he managed to unlock it and immediately scrolled to Hunk’s name.

“Hunk! I fucking reversed into Keith’s bike!”

A sharp intake of breath at the other line was all that was audible.

“You. Fucking.  _ What. _ ”

That was not Hunk’s voice.

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk said over the line. “Keith decided to drop by the café for a cinnamon bun. Isn’t that a bit of terrific?”

Lance went white as a sheet and let out a garbled noise somewhere between a wheeze and a scream.

“Keith, babe, I am so sorry and I just didn’t see it, I swear, I’ll pay to fix it or get a new one just please don’t kill me in my sleep, I love you?”

“How the  _ fuck _ did you reverse your shitty, falling to pieces Camaro over my glorious, hard-earned bike? It literally glows, it  _ fucking glows _ Lance, even with your crap eyesight you should’ve been able to see it!” Keith shouted. Lance winced and opened his mouth again to explain, but was cut off by Keith again.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I’m coming home now, see you in a minute.”

There was a beep and Lance looked at the screen in horror.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” he shouted, shoving the phone into his bag and deciding to park his car a little further away from the house. Behind a bush. Where Keith couldn’t see it.

As an extra precaution, he stole Keith’s baseball bat as well and chucked it into the attic, which Keith was scared of because of the enormous abandoned wasp nest up there.

He chewed his nails down to the roots waiting for the telltale sound of heavy boots in the garage and was not disappointed.

He heard a pained shout and the thud of someone falling to their knees, and wow, that brought back flashbacks. It had only been three years since Keith trashed his car but oh how the tables have turned.

“ _ Lance! Get in here now! _ ” Keith yelled, and Lance took a deep, steadying breath before walking to his death.

“Hey, Keith,” he greeted, wincing at the sight of the bike before him.

“Don’t you fucking ‘hey’ me,” Keith growled. “I want to know what you plan on doing about this!”

“Well,” Lance started. “I’m gonna pay for it, obviously. But first, I would like to remind you that, out of the goodness of my heart, I forgave you for smashing up my car...so if you could refrain from stabbing me while I sleep, that’d be much appreciated.”

Lance saw a faint twitch in Keith’s lip, an indication that he wanted to smile and was restraining himself.

“How the fuck did you even do this, anyway?” Keith muttered, standing up and deliberately not looking at the wreckage of his bike.

Lance flushed up to his ears and averted his gaze.

“Well, seeing as it’s our three year anniversary today, I, uh...I got you something,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Oh.” Keith visibly softened, a small smile lighting up his face.

They stood in an awkward silence for a second, Keith evidently waiting for his present and Lance not knowing how to tell him to wait.

“You, uh...you can’t have it until later. I have this big plan and you...you’re not allowed to ruin it, okay, Mullet?” Lance’s voice got a lot stronger towards the end of his sentence, and they both knew that he was not changing his mind on this.

Keith nodded reluctantly and took Lance’s hand to lead him back into their living room.

“So, honey, how was work?” he asked sarcastically, grabbing a carton of juice from the fridge and drinking it straight. Lance chuckled, relieved that he wasn’t being killed just yet, and snatched the juice away to take his own gulp.

“Alright,” he replied. “Shiro has this whole idea for a mission in five years to Centauri, which would be  _ so fucking cool _ , especially since on the last one they did, there were grounds for loads of nanoscopic life to live there but our technology wasn’t advanced enough to actually see any of it.”

“That does sound pretty cool,” Keith answered, though he looked dejected. Lance knew exactly why.

“Hey,” he murmured, turning Keith’s head to look at him. “It’ll only be for a year, tops. We have the tech to get us to the moon in a day now, remember last summer? It’ll only take a month to get to Centauri, another few for the research and a month back. Besides, Pidge has developed Space Skype or something, and we’ll be able to talk while I’m up there.”

Keith grinned.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “And of course I remember last summer. You almost pissed yourself when we got off the shuttle and you stepped on the moon for the first time.”

Lance went red and jabbed him in the side with a bony elbow.

“Shut up,” he retorted. “You were so scared of lift-off you practically hid in my shoulder for the entire trip up there.”

They shared matching scowls for a second before laughing.

Lance couldn’t help being glad that Keith had smashed up his Camaro.

 

**Keith**

 

Lance hadn’t given away any details whatsoever about the dinner plans, which was odd because Lance couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

He had been particularly quiet on the drive over, in Lance’s car, because  _ someone _ had reversed into his bike. Keith was worried about him, but not about their relationship because despite other people calling him oblivious, he really wasn’t.

No, he saw all the soft looks Lance shot at his back and all the dark bedroom eyes he received whenever he neglected to wear pants around the house and paraded about with only a baggy t-shirt and briefs on.

He knew Lance loved him as much as Keith loved Lance. Which made Keith wonder; what was Lance so focussed on? 

Being as in the dark about the whole evening as he was, Keith was somewhat surprised when Lance told him to wear warm clothing. But when he pulled up in the car park by the cliffs, he understood why.

Lance offered his hand, which Keith gratefully took, savouring its warmth and letting a grin appear on his face.

“Where are we going?” he asked again, not really expecting an answer.

“It’s really special,” Lance promised, an excited yet nervous smile on his face, on that made Keith want to kiss him. So he did. 

Lance’s free hand went into Keith’s hair and pulled him closer and Keith entangled his fingers in Lance’s thick blue sweater. They remained like that for a while, until Keith broke away for breath and saw the expanse of the night sky above them.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed, the heat from Lance’s chest still seeping through his coat. Lance looked up too and his eyes shined with awe.

“No matter how much I look at it, there’s always something new,” he whispered, eyes completely focussed on the stars above them.

Their gazes were drawn back down to earth by each other and Lance smiled gently.

He pulled Keith in for another brief kiss before tugging on his hand impatiently.

“Come on, I really want you to see this,” he insisted and Keith scowled as Lance’s strong grip almost yanked his arm out of his socket.

“Slow down, you idiot,” he muttered, jogging a little to catch up.

Lance led them to the top of the bluff, where a cool breeze ruffled their hair and plopped down on a mat that he had obviously put there earlier.

Keith’s stomach rumbled loudly and Lance laughed, the sound echoing off of the water far below. He pouted but lightened up when Lance pulled a picnic basket from somewhere, and Keith was sure he hadn’t been carrying one, so  _ how _ …but it didn’t matter because there were pork pies and scotch eggs and crumpets and for some reason, a whole host of other British snack foods. Keith blamed Pidge.

“Do you know why I want to be an astronaut?” Lance said eventually, after an hour or so of mindless teasing.

“Because of your dad, right?”

“Yeah,” Lance replied, eyes drawn back to the sky. “My dad was an astronaut. Not a very special one, just one of the guys that took people up and down from the moon. But he always wanted to be more, you know? He wanted to lead a research mission or something. I was five when he died.”

Keith wasn’t sure what to say to this.

“I think...somehow...that if I go up there, I’ll be closer to him. Don’t get me wrong, I love Caolan and all my siblings, but my dad...he was my real hero. Not Shiro or Sam Holt or Professor Colleen.”

“He’d be proud of you,” Keith said, covering Lance’s hand with his own. Lance turned to him and grinned.

“Well, I certainly hope so, after tonight,” Lance said, kissing his hand. Keith frowned in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

In response, Lance stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a simple wooden band. There was nothing fancy about it, it was made of a dark polished wood and was barely visible in the dark.

“Keith? Will you marry me?”

Keith blinked and stared at Lance in shock. He reached out a hand to Lance and nodded his head wordlessly.

“That’s a yes?” Lance asked breathlessly and whooped for joy. He fumbled, trying to get the ring on Keith’s finger before Keith snorted and snatched the band from Lance to do it himself.

It really was very plain. There was a small engraving of a star on it and he slipped it onto his finger, a wide grin on his face.

“Do you like it?” Lance asked, his voice anxious. “I wasn’t really sure...but, you’re always working on engines and with this, I thought, you might not have to take it off? Or maybe you will...shit, it’s made of wood, it’ll catch on fire. No, you’ll have to take it off. But it just seemed...more appropriate than a diamond-”

Keith smashed their lips together to shut him up.

“I love it. Do you have one too?” he asked when they separated and Lance pulled a similar ring out of his pocket, the only difference being that this one was made of light wood and had the earth engraved on it.

“I figured...that you could look at it and see the star, where I’ll be...and I’ll look at mine and see earth, where you are,” he said, staring at his own ring.

“I love you,” Keith said, looking at his ring again and unable to stop himself blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“I love you too,” Lance replied, kissing the top of Keith’s head.

“Even though you did reverse into my bike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I couldn't resist adding this because I was in a really sicky cutesy mood and yeah
> 
> Hope you liked the epilogue!   
> ~Marshy


End file.
